The Christmas Case
by DoctorMerlin
Summary: Dr Who/House. That's all you need to know. I don't want to spoil anything!  : Rated T to be safe.  Second story, first crossover D:- R&R to tell me a  what you think b  ought I continue it? c  how can I be a better writer?
1. Chapter 1: In Which Cameron Seeks House

AN: I own neither House nor Doctor Who. But I wouldn't mind getting them for my birthday (: My first story, and it's a crossover... D: Read and review. Not a very good introduction, and excuse my awful attempt at cliffhanger/suspense.

House sat down on the soft piano bench. He'd sat there a million times, and the seat was both comfortable and comforting. He began to warm up his frozen fingers with a few repeated octaves of various scales and arpeggios. It sounded awful initially, but soon his fingers had returned to normal and the music flowed and swelled dramatically. Somehow he was able to convey something extraordinary that most could not get these simplistic series of notes to yield.

Seamlessly, he changed into a beautiful Gershwin piece. The piece was a favorite of his and years of practice had granted him the ability to play it flawlessly from memory, without thinking.

He was soon disrupted by an urgent knocking at the door. Scowling, he reached for his cane. It dropped to the floor, and he fumbled for it with his good leg. The knocking persisted, and House angrily yelled for the stranger to wait a minute. There, he finally had the cane, and he slowly got to his feet. Even in his apartment he couldn't be left alone, he thought in annoyance.

He opened the door with an impatient "What?"

"House, we need you at the hospital. Why weren't you answering your phone?" It was Cameron. She had bleary, raccoon-eyes and a rather cross expression on her face.

"That expression isn't becoming on you, Cameron," House said, reaching for his coat. "I'll meet you there."

"I don't think so. Come on, the car's just outside." She grabbed his arm.

Wrenching it away, he asked in a mocking voice: "What is so important that you come harass me in my own home?"

"Trust me, you'll want to see this case. I don't think you've ever seen anything like it. Ever."

Guarding his interest, House rolled his eyes and followed the fake-blonde to her little car. It was still running, which was something very un-Cameron-like to do.

They drove off in silence, snow pouring and swirling down around them.

"Oh, by the way, Merry Christmas, House," Cameron smiled, turning on a perky Holiday station.

House slumped into his seat.


	2. Chapter 2: In Which Symptoms Are Learned

AN: Haha. I'd forgotten about this. But you know, busybusy. I'm back though. So that's good. Probably. This is AU because a) he's meeting House and b) no Rose (thank goodness, for some people, eh?)

The only noise in the car was the cheery voice of Bing Crosby and the roaring, dry heat Cameron had turned on. This idle, inappropriate holiday music grated on House's nerves, and he inched his hand towards the dial. Cameron smacked it, harder than he could've expected, and snarling like a wounded cat, he retracted the stinging offender.

"Someone's _dying_ and this is the music we listen to. We need something loud. You've driving like an old lady."

"Like you even care he's dying?"

"Oh, Cammy, that hurts. That really stings."

Cameron ignored him as he jabbered on and finally they reached the hospital. She swung the car into an empty parking space and quickly turned it off.

"Let's go," she said, leaving the car's warmth without looking back.

She was waiting by the lobby elevators when House finally caught up. The doors slid open to reveal a tired-looking Cuddy. Her make-up was smudged and her hair looked messier than usual.

"What took you so long?" Cuddy snapped at them. "I called you two hours ago!"

"Sorry, Mom," House said. "If only you'd gotten me the car I'd asked for, we woul-"

"Shut up, House." Cuddy punched the button for the floor House's office was on, and then smashed the 'close-doors' one as a flustered man raced towards the elevator.

Chase, Foreman, and Taub were seated around the Diagnostics table. Masters was pacing and wringing her hands. Her lips were moving, and House could see Foreman rolling his eyes.

"I'm here, ducklings!" House said, flinging the doors open. "Did you miss me?"

They said nothing as Cuddy and Cameron passed out the patient's files.

"Thanks, Cameron, for getting him. You can go now," Cuddy said, flashing the blonde a quick smile. Turning to House, she added, "I'll be in your office. This is important, and I'm not letting you screw this up or leave my sight. Understood?" She marched off with the last copy of the file.

"This is exciting!" House said, raising his eyebrows. "Let's see what makes this...John Smith, so interesting of a case. Masters, have you been a good girl?"

Masters stared at him blankly.

"Well, have you?" he taunted.

"No worse than usual," she shrugged, having caught on that he was mocking her.

"You can write on the board then." He flung her a dry-erase marker. "Chase, read us the file."

"A woman called in and brought in a strange British man she saw wandering about her neighborhood. He was dressed strangely, just a black leather jacket in this weather. Obviously disoriented or delusional - asked for a pear, but couldn't swallow it, then bacon, then eggs, then a bana-"

"We don't need a grocery list, Goldilocks."

"Right. He spasmed and looked to be in a great deal of pain. She brought him inside to wait for the ambulance and he didn't recognize himself in the mirror. Kept touching his face and hair and talking to himself. He'd be really nice and calm and then suddenly get angry and agitated. The patient has a strange orangish 'glow' to his skin and his eyes were yellowed for a while."

"Alright. Masters - disorientation, delusions, food cravings, spasms, jaundice, mood swings. Amnesia? Chase, is that it? No history or anything?"

"Err, and the man's not even sure his name is John Smith apparently. He's in some sort of strange coma now."

As Masters was noting this down, Cuddy burst back into the room. "Something's really wrong with your patient. Come quick." Just as suddenly, the team members' pagers went off.

"What's wrong?" House asked, getting up slowly as his team sprinted off.

"When he came in, his heart was fine. But now, he's got two heartbeats."

House raised his eyebrows and limped off as fast as his leg let him.


	3. Chapter 3: In Which Two Doctors Meet

A/N: the usual

...

"Hello, I'll be your doctor this fine evening," House called as he entered the room. "Can I get you started with anything?"

The man looked up, but the strain was so much that his head soon fell back against the pillow. "Hello," he mumbled. "I'm the Doc-, John Smith."

"The what's-it now?" House smirked.

"Some call me the doctor."

"I s_ee_," House said. He turned to face his team, twirled his finger by his temple, and then pretended to glance at the file again.

"Usually people ask Doctor Who. I always love that part."

"If you're a doctor, then you're a doctor," House said. "I take pride in the great faith I place in my patients."

"Well, you sound like a nice chap then," the man said.

Suddenly, he began convulsing. His mouth slammed shut and sweat literally streamed down his forehead. The heart monitor went wild. House pressed the nurse-alert button and quickly shoved his stethoscope down the man's gown. _Two__heartbeats?_ _I__guess__they__weren__'__t__kidding._

He passed the nurses, who rushed in and administered a shot, before helplessly gaping at the various instruments' readings. The man flopped back against the bed, but his skin still _glowed_ yellow. House stared a moment at the confused heart monitor and then at the man's skin. He had never seen skin, well, so glowy.

House thrust the files into Masters' hands and walked off.

"Order a psych evaluation," he called over his shoulder. "You three boys, go brainstorm."

"Where are you going?" Foreman grumbled.

"See if talking to Wilson about monster trucks will give me an epiphany."

...


	4. Chapter 4: In Which Everyone is Useless

A/N: Much to my dismay, I don't own any of the doctors mentioned to this point in my story. Pity.

Remember: blame/thank WebMD for my diagnostic failures/prowess. If you're a medicine buff, forgive me.

Thanks to .com for information on Gallifreyan physiology!

Please R&R! Constructive criticism always welcomed.

...

"House, for once in your life, do your job," Wilson moaned, slamming a file shut as his friend entered his office. "I've got a girl who's really too young to have cancer this advanc-"

"I've got tickets for that monster truck rally next Saturday," House interrupted. "I'm _particularly_ excited to s-"

"Shut up, House," Wilson said. "I really have no time for this. Give me the file."

"Trade?" House tossed him John Smith's file, which Wilson clumsily caught. Wilson slid his file forwards across the desk.

"John Smith? I've always wanted a patient with that name," Wilson mused.

"He was insistent that that was his name, but with his mental state, who knows?"

" 'Glowiness?'" Wilson asked. "Can't say I've heard that as a symptom for anyone other than a pregnant woman."

"His skin's yellow like jaundice, but glowier," House explained, closing Wilson's file. "You've been no help. If I'd wanted to go over the case, I'd be with the dream team."

"Maybe he's an alien," Wilson suggested. "I can't say I've ever had one as a patient, but maybe they've already invented a cure for cancer."

"Alien..." House mumbled, staring off into space. "Alien...Thanks, Wilson!"

"How on Earth did that help?" Wilson asked in shock, as the door slammed. "Seriously, how?"

His door opened again. Through the crack, Wilson could make out House's eye.

"It didn't. That's how!" House whispered. "And your patient? Recheck the charts. Her preexisting conditions account for the white blood cell count. Refer her to Dr. Peterson, she's more suited for this sort of thing. Cheerio!"

The door shut again. Wilson reopened the chart. And as always, House was right.

...

House hooked his cane over the whiteboard and plopped into his seat at the head of the diagnostics table.

"Well, my pretties?" he asked, in an affected accent.

"Hepatitis B," Chase suggested smugly.

"Syphilis," Masters countered.

"Acetaminophen poisoning," Taub said.

"Would've shown up on the tox screen," House said. "Did you even check the file?"

"Amyloidosis," Taub added.

"Alright, I'll be the first to say this," House said. "Just getting this out there since I know we're all thinking this. These are ridiculous suggestions. But I am just as, well, flummoxed as you idiots, which means something. Test everything, including your bogus ideas. Oh, and how'd his psych evaluation go?"

"Well, he has some delusions, and is clearly confused. He remembers a blue, police box, whatever that is. Something about malfunctioning and crashing. He wasn't making a lot of sense, and his accent got a bit thick."

"So what did you find then?" House asked impatiently. Chase and Taub exchanged a quick glance; not only was he not insulting or manipulating them as much as usual, but they'd also never seen him so interested in a case.

"He doesn't remember a job, but his physical appearance suggests he had at least some money. His clothes, though, seem like second-hand store family or friends in the US. I scheduled an appointment with a psychiatrist, but basically he has some strange memory loss, confusion, and delusions."

"We had that already. You're really horrible at psych evals. Alright, pretties, get testing."

...

"House?" Masters said, striding purposefully into his office.

"What?" House sat up.

"The patient's heart beat is...really weird."

"Slow, skipping, or fast?"

"Really fast, and irregular. Ready for the interesting stuff?"

"Only if it's better than your psych evaluation."

"How's this for interesting? His blood doesn't seem to have a human blood type, and it's slightly orange. We did every type of brain imaging technique we could and found an additional brain lobe. His blood temperature is below freezing. He has twenty-six ribs. And he has some sort of tubes instead of lungs."

"This isn't the time for an April Fool's joke. You're several months too early, or late, I guess you could say. Retest for everything, and take it seriously."

Before Masters could say anything, both of their pagers went off. They raced off to the patient's room.

"What happened?" Masters asked.

"He's in a coma," Chase answered. "He's still breathing, but according to the heart monitor he's dead."

...


	5. Chapter 5: In Which The Patient Wakes Up

AN: SORRY for the long update time. Insert excuse about college here :C

Anyways, read & review, send me suggestions for where you want to see this going etc.

This will be a quick, really short update. Give me suggestions, but I should be posting again soon.

Oooooooooo

His team was useless, even more so than usual. House watched them poke and prod the comatose man. Masters was talking to the nurses, but they seemed to offer little additional knowledge. Finally, bored with their lack of effectiveness, he limped into the room, swinging his cane, before using it to herd his team out of the room. They protested but offered little resistance.

"House," Masters whined. "This is really weird."

"Go run whatever tests you think might be necessary, Nancy Drew," House instructed. In a mocking Southern drawl, he said, "And boys, why don't you be dolls and read a textbook or two? For me?"

As they turned to leave, ignoring his slights, he muttered under his breath, "Kids these days."

House turned and glared at the remaining nurses. The more experienced ones rolled their eyes and the newbies cowered, as they all left the room. He approached the man and began his own examination. The man did seem to be in a coma. His heart, or rather hearts, were still going and he had a pulse, but for some reason the monitors did not pick this up. House tapped the monitor with his cane, and it tumbled to the ground.

"Oops," he said, but he left it where it was. It hadn't been doing anything anyways.

The man was still glowing a vibrant yellow-orange. It really did look like the man was cursed with a case of really bad special effects. He opened the man's eyelids, and saw nothing unusual.

House sat on the man's bed and racked his brain for anything that might help. Half of these man's symptoms weren't symptoms he'd even heard of, let alone seen before. Finally, he gave up, plopped into the visitor's chair and flicked on the television.

"Oh Doctor, you're so dreamy," he cooed as his favorite soap came on. The tall, dark, and handsome doctor on screen focused his crystal blue eyes on the sexy blonde nurse and began spouting some melodramatic reason for cheating on her with her sister.

"Excuse me?" the patient said suddenly. House whipped around to find the man sitting upright in the bed. His skin was significantly less glowy.

"You too, Doc, now that your freaky glowiness is gone." House struggled to his feet, switched off the TV and paged the team.


End file.
